


Melancholy

by nebulas (strawberry_bee)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Dissociation, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, he's just struggling a little okay, jesse is a miserable SOB and he's trying to hide it from everyone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-17
Updated: 2017-03-17
Packaged: 2018-10-06 19:48:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10343328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberry_bee/pseuds/nebulas
Summary: There’s an art to feeling sorry for yourself. Jesse is practically a master at it.





	

Jesse wakes in a fog, the air in his lungs keeping him pinned to the bed. He gazes at the silent ceiling fan above his head, feeling uncomfortably warm against the layers of blankets he must’ve balled himself up into during the night. He sits up wearily, like a wounded animal who had half-forgotten the fight. 

He takes his time stretching, biting away at the minutes before he must leave his room. He hears footsteps in the corridor, the sounds of his fellow agents moving around. He knows that if he doesn’t leave soon, Lena will come by, sniffing around, a bloodhound on the hunt for Jesse’s failures. He’s used to it. It’s been twenty years, how could he not be adjusted to the feeling of being watched in case he’s about to crack? 

Since it’s an off day, Jesse dressed in sweatpants and a faded flannel, leaving his hat on the edge of his bed, where he had taken it off the night before. He contemplates trimming his beard, but vetoes the idea entirely. Part of shaving meant taking a shower, and dammit, it was his day to relax. 

He steps into the hallway, the last of the section to leave. Jesse follows the sounds of laughter into the sunlit kitchen. Genji was busy keeled over laughing, the source of his humor being that of Hana, laughing hysterically as she tried to pull a halfdone pancake out of Lucio’s hair. Jesse sidles past their antics, seizes the coffee pot as a lifeline. 

“Genji, you are the absolute worst pancake flipper alive,” Lucio says, dispersing the single question that Jesse had. He pours himself some coffee, stuff that he knows he’s not going to drink. He’ll let it turn lukewarm, and then pour it out. 

“Morning,” A voice says beside his elbow, and Jesse shifts out of the way. Hanzo takes the coffee pot, fills a mug that says “ _ tooty fruity booty _ !” in flowery font, and proceeds to dump three teaspoons of sugar into it. Hanzo glances at Jesse, and pours a spoonful into Jesse’s drink. Jesse frowns at him. He’s torn between telling him he enjoys his coffee black, thank you very much, and just saying good morning back. 

“Hmmph, messin’ with people’s coffee ain’t a good way to start the morning,” Jesse says instead, and shuffles past to sit at the kitchen table. He thinks that's the end of his conversing for the day, until Hanzo sits right across from him. Jesse frowns into his coffee, takes a sip in order to mask the gesture. He arches an eyebrow; not half bad. 

“I take it you’re the finest bitch here?” Hanzo asks. Jesse snorts, holding up his mug. In fact, it did say ‘ _ The Finest B*tch’.  _ He supposes it’s his fault for not actually paying attention to the leftover mugs. 

“Watch yourself, tooty fruity,” Jesse retorts. He takes another sip of coffee. He wonders if a pinch more sugar would hurt it. 

“I think these mugs are Angela’s, although this appears to be a gift to my brother,” Hanzo says, wrinkling his nose at his mug. Jesse grunts in response. He’s not sure why Hanzo is pestering him, but he’s hoping he goes away quick. 

“You were yelling again, last night,” Hanzo says casually, focusing his attention on his mug. Jesse tightens his grip on the cup of coffee. Damn. He figures that’s why his throat ached this morning. 

“Hell, I’ll try to be quieter next time,” Jesse says. He grinds his teeth together, hoping that would be the end of it. 

“Have you tried asking Angela for some sleeping pills?” Hanzo asks, lifting his eyes to watch Jesse carefully. 

“No. I’m doin’ just fine without bein’ psychoanalyzed at eight thirty in the morning,” Jesse says, standing up with a start. He storms into the kitchen, dropping his mug into the sink. He pretends he doesn’t notice the looks he receives from the others. If that damnable Shimada had let him be, everything would be hunky dory. He passes them and into the yard of watchpoint. Jesse finds the nearest secluded spot, and plops himself down for a long day in the sun. 

It’s not that Jesse doesn’t know he has a problem. He figures that everyone in Overwatch had a pinch of something haunting them all. But there was a difference between him and them; they had earned the right to seek out help, and he had to saddle these things silently. 

He had to, or else Reyes and Morrison would be ruined by the things Jesse had to say when it came to the things they did in the early days. He figures it’s not his place to bring them down. It’s their legacy to uphold or bring to ruin, he just appeared in the crosshairs as a mere kid and just kept going. Besides, that was the way of things. Everyone had something coming for them sooner or later.

Jesse lowers his head, picks at his nails. Maybe the something has come for him already, and it’s a weighted consciousness. It’s just a damn shame it’s gotten to the point that everyone’s started worrying their pretty little heads about him. 

He pulls out a cigarette from his sweatpant pocket, tries to light it but his hands won't stop shaking. With a curse he snaps his lighter shut and sits with nothing to calm his nerves. Jesse considers just going back to bed, stare at the opposite wall of his room for a couple of hours. He hears someone walk out the door he had just come from, and he works himself up to wave them away. 

“Howdy, partner!” Lena calls, in a bad imitation of his accent. Jesse raises an eyebrow at her. Lena only laughs, plopping herself down right beside him. 

“Need me to light that for ya?” She asks, and he gladly hands over the lighter. She lights it with ease, flicking the lighter off and tossing it into his lap. Jesse took a deep breath, feeling his frayed nerves ease off a bit as he waited for the nicotine to hit. 

“Whatcha up to today?” She asks. Jesse shrugs. Lena tilts her head to the side, squinting at him. Jesse glances away, gazing across the courtyard. Soon the dogwood trees would bloom, and along with the dogwoods came the birds and their many cluttered nests. That was one dependable thing about the world, the trees and the birds. Everything else tended to go to shit. 

“You’re pretty quiet today,” She points out. He shrugs again. “Anything you need to talk about?” 

“I’m fine, Lena, honest. Just got a bad day an’ all,” Jesse says, tapping his forehead lightly. The crease in the middle of Lena’s forehead appeared, meaning that Jesse was not doing a good job convincing her at all. 

“Listen, talkin’ doesn’t help everyone, I just happen to be one of those,” Jesse says, trying to keep his voice low, as if he was confiding something to her. People tended to leave him alone once he acted like they were getting under his skin, they liked to think only they had him all puzzled out and sorted. 

“Jesse, yknow, I was talking to Genji and he said that Hanzo spent a lot of time bottling things up, and so like, he didn’t really start getting better until he talked to Angela about-” Lena says, prattling off into a direction that had something to do with therapists and medication. Jesse zones her out, focuses on his cigarette instead. He feels himself let go of himself, slowly slip away until he’s robotically going through the motions. It’s easy, this robotic Jesse. He nods, he smiles and agrees. Leaves his friends feeling like they’ve gone and accomplished something for the day. Jesse doesn’t even itch for another cigarette when he finishes his first, leaves it as a stub on the ground beside him. 

“Anyway, just think about it, alright? You’re such a good friend, we hate to see you struggling,” Lena says, placing a hand on his shoulder. Jesse nods faintly. She gets up and goes at some point, he isn’t sure when.  

The sun makes its slow fall through the sky, and Jesse remains where he is, watching the shadows slip across the courtyard. He startles a little, when he sees Hanzo heading in his direction. The archer sits beside him silently, hands him a water bottle and an apple. Jesse palms the fruit, wondering why Hanzo just wasn’t letting things go today. 

“You’re out of it, aren’t you?” Hanzo asks politely. Jesse blinks at him uncertainly, wonders why he knows, or better, why he cares to make the distinction. 

“I can see it in your eyes, my brother used to get that way, when we were little and something bad happened. I’d have him recite his favorite song backwards, so he could focus on something,” Hanzo explains, taking a sip of water. 

“Don’t have any favorites,” Jesse replies. He opens his own water, takes a sip, and upon realizing just how thirsty he is, drinks the rest in one go. 

“Doesn’t have to be a song,” Hanzo replies, voice gentle. Jesse closes his eyes, thinks about what Hanzo is trying to say. The water left him feeling more alive than before, but there was not getting around the fog in his head now. 

“I count the fletching on all of my arrows, and if that doesn’t do it, I try to recount all the places I’ve been on missions,” Hanzo says. 

“Is that the reason you’re always fiddlin’ with those things?” Jesse asks, opening his eyes. He always thought Hanzo was a perfectionist. 

“It’s always important to be prepared. But...yes, if things are hard,” Hanzo admits. He takes Jesse’s hand and faces the palm up, drops a silver ring into his hand. Jesse pulls his hand away, and taking a bite out of the apple, studies the ring. There was two dragons intertwined, the notches of their interlacing bodies engraved deeply into the metal. 

“Try to count the grooves, remember where you are,” Hanzo instructs. Jesse does as he asks, figuring there’s no shame in doing so. 

At first he thinks it’s foolish, a waste of time. But he does it to appease Hanzo, who was sticking by him for no good reason today. After a couple of minutes, Jesse came back to himself, in fits and starts. He closes his hand around the ring that he had been fiddling with. Suddenly ashamed over how he had been acting, he took another bite of the apple and set the half-eaten fruit on the ground.  

“Usually those kinda funks don’t go away until I’ve slept,” He admits to Hanzo. Hanzo only nods. Jesse holds his hand out, ring facing upwards for Hanzo to take it back.

“It’s a gift. To help you,” Hanzo says. Jesse reluctantly took it back, placed it on his right ring finger. He flexes his hand, studying the silver band in the light. It almost appeared to be natural, as if he had worn it all his life. 

“Thank you, really,” He says. 

“I understand that you think it’s brave to hide all the things that plague you. It’s easy, letting them fester inside,” Hanzo says 

“But the truth of it is, the fall will only be all the harder. There’s no shame in getting help McCree, and I don’t want you doing something stupid to make it stop,” Hanzo says. 

“Hey now, I ain’t about to go shoot my brains out,” Jesse says quickly, holding his hands up in defense. 

“You won’t, but you’ll think about it until it doesn’t seem so unreasonable,” Hanzo replies. 

“Who said I ever thought about such a thing?” Jesse asks, fear rising in his chest. He didn’t think he had let it slip, even while a few drinks deep at the bar…

“I thought of it too, I think of it still. I drink until it goes away, but it’s always a reminder to where I was,” Hanzo says, taking a bite of his apple. “When you clean peacekeeper, you point it towards yourself, especially after a bad mission. Any sharpshooter knows how foolish that is, even when it’s unloaded,” 

“Maybe I jus’ wanna make sure I got all the powder out,” Jesse says quickly. He knows Hanzo is right though. Every bad mission, every failure stacked up times twenty, they all weighed heavy on him. 

“I’m not the only one who notices, Jesse. There’s a reason why everyone tiptoes around you when you’re not in gear. You fall apart when there’s not a mission, and you wont let a single soul help you,” Hanzo says. 

“Well, shit, what’s it matter to you what I do, as long as the mission is done?” Jesse asks. 

“Because you’re not a seventeen year old kid over your head anymore, you’ve got to let yourself come to terms, or you’ll never move on,” Hanzo says. 

“What if I dont know how?” Jesse asks. 

“That’s what I’m here for, and Ziegler when you’re ready,” Hanzo says. Jesse grunts, figures there’s no good answer to that.

“It’s something to think about,” Hanzo says. 

“I dream of Reyes torturing me for tellin’ them about the missions. It’s ridiculous, everything Blackwatch has ever done, its as good as known by anyone smart enough to search for it,” Jesse bursts out

“But still, he’s always there, an’ he’s got that blade and his fists an’ it’s like I’m in the room again, watching him turn the rats into bloody little pulps, as they should be for backstabbin’ him-” Jesse takes a deep shuddering breath, clutches his knees. He can smell the blood, he can hear them scream and scream and Reyes’ calm voice as he asks for Jesse to hold their arm up so he can get at their ribs-

Hanzo is speaking to him, in a low voice. It’s something in Japanese, Jesse can’t tell what, but it distracts him enough to hold onto the sound of Hanzo repeating something over and over again. 

He opens his eyes, sees Hanzo kneeling before him and chokes out the breath he must’ve been holding. 

“Don’t stop talkin,” Jesse manages. Hanzo continues with his mantra, until Jesse is able to begin counting his breaths, the way he had learned on the road whenever something knocked him right into a place like that. 

“Are you here?” Hanzo asks at last, breaking into english. 

“Yeah, yeah I’m good. Nice thinking, what was that?” Jesse asks. Hanzo blushes, sitting back down beside Jesse. 

“I panicked, I started reciting the most recent episode of Say Yes to the Dress,” Hanzo admits. Jesse bursts into laughter.

“You watch that shit?” Jesse asks, wiping at the corners of his eyes. 

“Well, it’s something to do,” Hanzo says defensively. 

“Darlin’ I never took ya as the kind to like somethin’ like that,’ Jesse says. 

“I watch it with Amelie on Tuesdays. Project Runway is on Thursdays,’ Hanzo explains. 

“Thank you, really, you’ve made my day,” Jesse says, grins lopsidedly at Hanzo. 

“I feel like this is at my expense,” Hanzo mumbles, picking up their water bottles and tucking it under his arm. 

“Aw, shucks,” Jesse says, sobering up. “No really, I...I probably would’ve been a mess if you hadn’t done that.” 

“I know what it’s like, Jesse, remember that,” Hanzo says. 

“I really ought to be gettin’ inside, I had an awful time sleepin’ last night,” Jesse says. Hanzo nods, smoothly rising to his feet. Jesse clambers after him, a touch slower as he stretches out his back. 

“Although, I can think of a show or two that might help me fall to sleep faster,” Jesse begins, hoping against hope. 

“I know the perfect season to start you on,” Hanzo says, leading the way inside. Jesse follows, feeling lighter despite the things that still plagued him. He knew this was a fluke in time, that at some point the rut would be there to trip him right up. But he had the ring, and a small part of him knew, he had Hanzo now, too.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a little bit personal to me, as I struggle with all that good brain stuff that I depicted to the best of my ability here with Jesse. Recovery is a choice, and sometimes the most daunting road of all. 
> 
> As always, thank you for reading. You can find me at starameter.tumblr.com :)


End file.
